


Don't Leave Me Hanging on the Telephone

by my99centdreams



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Alternate Universe, Dirty Talk, M/M, PWP, Phone Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-16
Updated: 2013-06-16
Packaged: 2017-12-15 03:23:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/844721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/my99centdreams/pseuds/my99centdreams
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Frank's a phone sex operator and Gerard is a really horny seventeen year old. PWP basically.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Leave Me Hanging on the Telephone

Gerard’s got the kind of horny to lonely to drunk ratio that, if he's being honest, comes around too fucking often for his liking. He'd blame his actions on being so utterly fucked up, but he's done stupider things while completely sober (he's just not exactly sure when the last time he was, you know, sober) so that's out. Whatever, Gerard's too good for the whole blame game bullshit. The point is, his dick's hard and porn's boring. What's a guy to do?

He grips the debit card his parents got him for his birthday in his palm tightly, plastic heating up as he reads off the numbers on the back of the card to the automated voice on the line, his free hand wrapped loosely around his cock, jacking it slowly.

And while Gerard may be too old for the blame game, he's not so sure about even being old enough for a phone sex line. He really can't believe he's going through with this.

He gets put on hold while they check the card to make sure it's legitimate. He finds himself humming - really more like whining - along to the mindless tune as he grinds against his hand. Fuck, he doesn't think he's ever been this fucking hard before.

He just, he just fucking _needs_.

His hair's plastered to his neck and cheeks, mouth getting a little sore from how hard he's biting his lips. He tries not to think about what he looks like, black sheets sticking to his back, underwear twisted around his ankle, chest rising and falling a little too quickly for someone who's barely touching their dick. And it's so hot in his room; the air conditioner broke last night - in the middle of a fucking heat wave - and the shitty fan in the corner of his room isn’t doing anything special, just pushing the muggy air around.

It's fucking horrible; it's like he's got fucking liquid heat thrumming under his skin, making him pant and arch off the bed.

Maybe he's in heat? Like, pon farr or something? Because that would make way more sense, and Gerard definitely couldn't be held responsible for his actions if he was going through pon farr. It'd also explain why he's suddenly grown the fucking balls to try calling a phone sex line instead of just sucking it up and rubbing one out as fast as possible. 

Just the thought of finally getting to come sets him off again and he's thrusting his hips up, squeezing his eyes shut tight as he worries his bottom lip between his teeth. He gets so lost in the feel of it all, the warm heat pooling in his belly and the slick sounds his hand's making, that he almost doesn't hear it when someone takes him off hold and laughs, "Uh, hello?"

"Fuck," Gerard squeaks, cheeks turning beet red. He forces himself to take his hand off his dick. "Yeah - uh - hi."

"You start without me?" And, honestly, it doesn’t sound as sexy as Gerard thought it would, but, that doesn’t mean he doesn’t moan a little, teeth biting down hard on his lip to shut himself up. The guy on the line laughs, not mean or anything, just happy and soft, “I’ll take that as a yes.”  
"Um," Gerard says helpfully.

"Man, you must be really desperate, huh? You mind if I ask how old you are?"

"Eighteen," he lies. He actually won't be eighteen for another month, but this guy doesn't need to know that.

The guy laughs again, "Oh man, I remember those days. Anything would set me off. I used to have, like, jerk off marathons when my mom wasn't home. I'm Frank, by the way."

Gerard doesn't tell him his name because he's a paranoid idiot, but Frank sounds really nice and like someone Gerard could talk to without internally freaking out so he tries laughing with him but it sounds more like a breathless snort so he clamps his mouth shut and starts jacking off again.

And then it's like a switch is flipped, Frank's voice gets all low and raspy, "Is your mom home?"

He hesitates, breathes, "She's - she's upstairs."

"What do you think she'd say if she found out her son was jacking off for a stranger?"

"Shit," he pants, pre come leaking over his fingers.

"Bet you wouldn't even be able to stop if she could hear you, not with how hard you are."

" _Fuck_ , I - I would." He can't even breathe let alone take his hand off his fucking dick, who the hell is he kidding?

Frank tsks and Gerard can picture him shaking his head, "I don't think so. I remember back in high school I met this guy at a show and brought him back to my house to hang out. My mom was asleep in the room next to mine, but he didn't even care, just told me to stay quiet and fucking sucked me off. It was like nothing else; hot and wet and he could take me in so deep, fuck, you ever been sucked off?"

Gerard's fucking _keening_ at this point, hips arching off the bed, head thrown back as he jerks himself off with one hand and keeps his cell phone pressed tightly to his ear with his other. He can't get over Frank's voice; he almost wants to tell him his name so he can say it when Gerard comes, because _fuck_ , he's totally about to come.

"No, fuck, never." He grits out.

"If I was there I'd suck you off, let you hold me down and fuck my mouth until you came." Frank says it really offhand, like he’s doing his taxes while talking dirty to Gerard and that’s just too much for him to handle.

"Oh _fuck_ ," Gerard cries out, hips jerking up as he comes over his hand and stomach. He shakes through his aftershocks, quiet moans slipping out as he sinks down into his bed.

"Better?" Now he sounds fucking _earnest_ , like he actually cares. What the fuck is up with this guy?

"I - um - thank you!" Gerard blurts, mashing the end button with his thumb before throwing his phone across the room. It actually takes Gerard about twenty minutes to get up and start straightening shit out (like his underwear), clearing the history on his phone when he finally manages to find it again. It smells a little less like sweat and come when Mikey comes back from Pete's.

He stumbles in, his fucking shirt on backwards, blabbering about a fight at some party, completely ignoring the way Gerard's perched at the end of his bed with his hands folded in his lap like a fucking altar boy. He takes one look at him and starts asking if General Hospital’s come on yet because he’s fucking obsessed with it and Gerard tells him he doesn’t know. And it's not like it's a lie or anything, but Gerard always knows, because he never has anything better to do. So it's a little suspicious for him to suddenly be clueless (due to him calling a phone sex line instead of flipping through the channels while waiting for Mikey to get home), but Mikey just shuffles around the room some more until he finds the remote.

He does find General Hospital after a few minutes of very thorough searching, but only watches two scene changes, knocking out half on top of Gerard, his body heat already making Gerard start to sweat again. Gerard finishes the rest of the episode, finally rolling Mikey over towards the edge of the bed when he starts making noise in his sleep. He hopes that when Mikey finally pukes it’ll be on the floor instead of on Gerard. He lets out a long breath before closing his eyes and just thinks, fuck, how the fuck is this his life?


End file.
